


Kitsunebi

by manic_intent



Series: Kitsunetsuki [2]
Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Kitsune, Kitsune!Jin, M/M, Multi, Oni!Khotun, Tanuki!Ryuzo, That x3 kitsune Jin AU where Ryuzo is a bake-danuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: A pair of blackened kimon marked the entrance to Kamiagata, the demon gates similar to their red torii cousins but bent out of claws and thigh bones, strung together with sinew. An oni in golden armour waited between the kimon, a halberd planted on the ground beside him, horns twisting out from under his helm and his bearded lip. He looked them over in silence, unsurprised.Jin and Kurobo moved protectively in front of Sakai and Ryuzo, their hands on the hilts of their katanas. “Out of the way,” Kurobo said.
Relationships: Sakai Jin/Ryuzo, Sakai Jin/Ryuzo/Sakai Jin
Series: Kitsunetsuki [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891603
Comments: 18
Kudos: 115





	Kitsunebi

**Author's Note:**

> You'll have to read the previous fic to understand this one.

A pair of blackened kimon marked the entrance to Kamiagata, the demon gates similar to their red torii cousins but bent out of claws and thigh bones, strung together with sinew. An oni in golden armour waited between the kimon, a halberd planted on the ground beside him, horns twisting out from under his helm and his bearded lip. He looked them over in silence, unsurprised. 

Jin and Kurobo moved protectively in front of Sakai and Ryuzo, their hands on the hilts of their katanas. “Out of the way,” Kurobo said. 

The oni chuckled, the sound shaking the ground beneath them. “A tenko and his pets,” the oni said. “It’s unlike one of you to walk the so-called lesser realms. Whatever could have happened?” 

“Lord Sakai need not answer to anyone, let alone one of the oni,” Jin said, drawing his sword. “Move, or be moved.” 

“Kamiagata is my home. Why should I allow an unwanted guest into my home?” the oni countered. “Am I any less deserving of being here than you kitsune? Or that bake-danuki?” 

“Leave Ryuzo out of this,” Sakai said, quiet and determined, glaring at the oni over Ryuzo’s shoulder. 

“Ryuzo,” repeated the oni. “I am called Khotun. Why is a yōkai accompanying one of the tenko?” 

“It’s not a bad way to get fed,” Ryuzo said, wary of oni and their tempers. He didn’t find them unreasonable in general, nor did he attack them on sight the way Wolf was reputed to. “You should move. Whatever you might have heard of the kitsune and the tenko, it’s probably more than true. They killed a gigantic white snake not that long ago like swatting a fly.” 

Khotun drew himself up. “Yoshiko is…?” He looked away with a frown. 

“It tried to eat us,” Ryuzo said, in case he’d just put his foot in it. Who knew that gigantic ravenous snakes might have oni friends? Or whatever this was.

“We need not explain ourselves to an oni,” Kurobo said, drawing an inch of his katana. “Move, or be moved. This is your last warning.” 

Khotun sniffed, ignoring Kurobo. “You seem interesting, little tanuki. Come. Leave your friends here and have a drink with me. You will not be harmed. After this drink, I will return you to your friends, and you’ll all be allowed to pass through the kimon.” 

Sakai’s arms tightened over Ryuzo’s shoulders. “No. Jin, Kurobo—”

“Or are you truly just one of its pets?” Khotun asked, baring his teeth in amusement. “To be moved here and there on its whims?” 

“If you’re trying to annoy me, it’s not working,” Ryuzo said, though he gently helped Sakai down off his shoulders. “A drink, you say. Good sake?” 

“If you like.” Khotun inclined his head. “I prefer airag, but I have sake.” 

Sakai grabbed Ryuzo’s sleeve, shaking his head. “Jin and Kurobo will get rid of him. You don’t need to do this.” 

“I don’t _need_ to,” Ryuzo said, pulling his sleeve free, “but I want to. An oni isn’t a beast. Most of the ones I’ve met tend to be reasonable, and he’s right. We’re the ones intruding.” He started to walk forward and tensed as Kurobo barred his way with his sheathed katana. 

Khotun chuckled. “A pet after all, hm?” 

“A friend,” Sakai said, with a fierce glare at Khotun. Thunder rumbled overhead, the stormclouds seething over a grey sky. “Ryuzo.” 

“Stay here,” Ryuzo told Sakai. “It’s only a drink. Shouldn’t take long.” 

Sakai scowled. “No. I don’t want you to do this.” Lightning cracked overhead, drenching the dead grass beneath them in fragments of harsh shadows. 

Ryuzo grit his teeth. “I will do what I like,” he said, very slowly. “I’m not your servant, boy. Try to stop me again, and I’ll turn around right here and walk away.” 

Sakai stiffened, his ears flattening down over his head. Tears welled in Sakai’s eyes, but Ryuzo hardened his heart and turned away, staring Kurobo and Jin down. They looked beyond him at Sakai for a long moment, and then at some hidden signal, they grudgingly stepped aside. Cold rain chased Ryuzo to the kimon, pattering over his straw hat as he made an exaggerated gesture at Khotun to lead the way. 

Past the kimon, the land heaved itself out of the dead grass into steep ravines and mountainous crags, drenched in clinging mist. Ryuzo glanced behind them as they walked through the twisting chasm, growing disoriented as he tried to make out landmarks. “Concerned?” said Khotun without turning his head.

“Whether you have any sake worth drinking? A little.” 

Khotun snorted. “You tanuki and your tongues. I’m surprised the tenko is willing to tolerate your presence.” 

“You speak like you’ve met tenko before,” Ryuzo said. 

“Now and then,” Khotun said. They emerged along a murky river, thick rushes drooping against its sluggish flanks. A stone jetty fed out over the river, where several old cushions and chests waited. Walking over the stone, Khotun waved Ryuzo to a seat and rummaged through the chests. He grunted as he found a bottle of sake and some cups, the stoneware dwarfed by his large fingers. Yet he managed delicacy as he opened the bottle and poured sake for them both. Ryuzo drank. Better than he’d thought. 

“It could’ve been poisoned,” Khotun said, amused as he drank his cup. 

“Why bother with poison if you wanted me dead? You could’ve cut me down the moment I was out of sight of the kitsune.” Ryuzo poured the next round. 

“You’re brave, at least. You say you’ve met oni before. Downriver?” Khotun asked. 

“They weren’t a bad sort. There aren’t that many of them around now, though. Wolf has a grudge against them, I think.” 

“It isn’t Wolf with the grudge, but his father.” Khotun sniffed. “So. Why are you travelling with one of the tenko?” 

“I found him by a river and thought he was just a kitsune child,” Ryuzo admitted. “Before you laugh at me, I’d never seen a kitsune before, so I didn’t think anything of the golden fur.”

“Why would he bother talking to a yōkai?” 

“He didn’t have much of a choice at the time. Also, he isn’t that bad.” 

“Not now, perhaps,” Khotun allowed, “but what of his servants? Did they treat you well when you first met?” 

“They’re fine now,” Ryuzo said, wary of what Khotun was trying to get at. 

“That’s what you think. Had the tenko decided that he wanted you to stay, they would’ve made you stay. If you think that they are your friends and not your keepers, you’re mistaken.” Khotun drank, pouring the next round. “Do you think it’s fair? That the kitsune treat us like this? That they reserve the Divine Realm for their use?”

“Frankly, I’m happy with where I used to live, and have no interest in any other realms,” Ryuzo said. 

“You will live where that tenko wants you to live.” Khotun stared pensively at the cup. “A long time ago, the kitsune were yōkai too. No. To be more accurate, they’ve always been yōkai. They just pretend now that they’re something better.”

“I’ve never seen other yōkai do what they could do,” Ryuzo said, though, admittedly, he did tend to make a point not to be friendly with powerful yōkai. Many of them tended to be eccentric, murderous, or both. 

“Because we lack the means?” Khotun said, smiling mirthlessly, “Listen, little tanuki, and be quiet until I’m finished. Once, the Divine Realm belonged not to the kitsune but to the dragons and their servants: the tennryo, the yatagarasu, and others. One day, the Zennyo Ryūō, a rain dragon, descended to the lesser realms, where she befriended a kitsune. They became friends—and in time, perhaps something more. She taught the kitsune not only the secret names of the storm and the wind, but also the way of the sword and the bow. 

“Dragon-touched, the kitsune began to change. One tail became two, then three, until at last the kitsune had nine. She was now the most powerful yōkai in all the realms, and as she taught the dragon’s secrets to her kin—but only them—so did all the kitsune begin to rise above the rest. Yet there is one thing that levels the weak and the powerful alike. As the kitsune grew to a thousand years old, she began to sicken and die. 

“The Zennyo Ryūō could not bear to watch. On the kitsune’s deathbed—knowing all that would come—the rain dragon taught the kitsune a final lesson: the forbidden secret of immortality. The kitsune breathed her last. As dawn broke, a child slept in her place. Golden-furred and divine—the first of the tenko.”

“Does this story have a point?” Ryuzo asked, pouring out the last of the sake.

Khotun smiled. “The Sakura Dragon—the lord of all dragons—found out what the Zennyo Ryūō had done. She was condemned to death and executed. For her part, the tenko stayed in the mortal realms with her kin—biding her time. Until she grew old enough to hold a sword. The grudge she brought to account against the dragons sundered the realms, shattering some, plunging others into chaos, until the dragons were no more. Now it is the kitsune that we fear as celestials. Is that right?” 

Ryuzo yawned. “Sounds like the Sakura Dragon probably shouldn’t have murdered the Zennyo Ryūō.” 

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he saw that a war would have come regardless. The kitsune were many; the dragons, few.”

“You’re going to tell me: Ryuzo, is it right for the kitsune to lord it over the rest of us, just because of the colour of their fur and shape of their ears? Just because one of them was lucky enough to befriend a dragon? Aren’t they yōkai too? Shouldn’t they share their secrets with the rest of us?” Ryuzo drained his cup. “I’m just a bake-danuki, friend oni. I like grilled fish and good sake, and warm naps by a river. I’m not one for philosophy or what-ifs.” 

“People like you live as the wind,” Khotun said, though he sounded amused. “Rising and then falling, destined to be forgotten. Never amounting to much.” 

“I’m not one for power either. Besides, I can’t imagine what sort of state the world would be in if there were a lot of creatures like Sakai,” Ryuzo said with a shudder. “One tenko is good enough for me.” 

“One of the great lies that people in power like to tell is that they’re the only ones deserving—or worthy—of power. Then they use the same lie to trample over everyone else. To squeeze the blood from those less fortunate, while telling them: this is how the world is, and be content with what you have.” Khotun glanced over his shoulder at the ravine they’d emerged from. “I cannot abide lies.” 

“Friend oni,” Ryuzo said, getting to his feet, “what will you do? Find a way to destroy the tenko, the way they destroyed the dragons? Swim in their blood, then rule the Divine Realm in turn with the other oni? Around and around it’ll go, while the rest of us suffer the consequences whether we like it or not. Are we done?” 

Khotun got up slowly. “The tenko fought a costly war with the yatagarasu. Lord Shimura is weakening by the day. His nephew, Lord Sakai, is almost in my hands. This is what I have to say, because you are one of the yōkai, and because I believe you when you say you have no interest in power. Go home to your river, your grilled fish, your warm days in the sun. Leave the kitsune to their fate.” 

“Or what?” Ryuzo asked, wary. 

“Threats bore me. I prefer to make offers.” Khotun smiled thinly. “You could leave—if that tenko allows you to leave.”

“I can leave at any time. He’s my friend, not my master.”

“So you think. Or, you could work for me. Perhaps power and immortality do not interest you yet, because you’re still young. In a hundred years, three hundred, you may feel differently.”

#

Sakai perked up as Ryuzo emerged from the kimon. “Ryuzo! Are you all right?”

“I had some surprisingly decent sake,” Ryuzo said, and waved toward the demon gate. “You can all head through now, though I’d be careful. Khotun said he’d let you pass through the kimon. He didn’t say anything about safely. Or letting you get very far.” 

Jin frowned, glancing at the kimon, even as Kurobo said, “What about you?” 

“Me?” Ryuzo scratched behind an ear. “This is as far as I go.” 

“What?” Sakai gasped. “What did that oni say? Did he threaten you?” 

“He doesn’t like threats, he says. It isn’t him. I’ve seen more of the realms during our time together than I ever wanted to. It mainly made me homesick. This celestial struggle, or whatever you’re doing, it’s none of my business.” Ryuzo smiled unevenly at Sakai. “I am, after all, only a yōkai.” 

Sakai sniffled. “But you said you’d stay with me. Until I get older, and—”

“I said I’d think about it. Now I have.” Ryuzo gestured at the kimon. “Go. You’d better hurry. Khotun said something about your uncle weakening by the day. Didn’t sound good, so. Best of luck and all that.” 

Jin looked sharply at Ryuzo, then at Sakai. “Lord Sakai—”

“Ryuzo, please,” Sakai choked out. 

“Good-bye,” Ryuzo said, with a little bow. “Find me by the river again once all this blows over.” He waved at a silent Jin and Kurobo and began to turn. 

“ _No_ ,” Sakai snapped, clenching his fists. “ _You’re not going anywhere._ ” 

Lightning snapped down from the sky, earthing itself in the dead grass a stone’s throw away and setting it alight. Ryuzo yelped, flinching and clapping his hands over his ears as the storm itself roared with divine displeasure. Sparks of flame sputtered over his hakama, which Ryuzo had to pat out hastily. 

“Lord Sakai!” Kurobo said, dropping onto a knee. “Calm yourself. Please.”

Sakai blinked. He looked from the fire to the fear on Ryuzo’s face, his ears and tail drooping. “Ryuzo… I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Maa. I hate it when other people are right and I’m not,” Ryuzo said, pulling his hat down over his eyes as spots danced over his vision. “That was a test, by the way. One that you failed rather spectacularly.” 

“A yōkai does not—” Jin began, and went quiet as Sakai held up a palm. 

“Forgive me,” Sakai said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry.” 

“So let me go,” Ryuzo retorted, his hand drifting down to the hilt of his katana, “or kill me here.” 

Sakai rubbed his eyes, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Finally, he whispered, “Ryuzo, you helped me when you could have abandoned me. You were kind to me even though you didn’t know me. I owe you a debt that you may call in at any time, and I wish you the best. Thank you for coming this far with me: your friendship honours and humbles me both.” He reached in his sleeve and took out a heavy brocade bag, which he offered to Ryuzo. When Ryuzo didn’t move, Sakai tossed it before Ryuzo’s feet. “This is a small token of my appreciation. Further, it’s a long way from here to your home. Kurobo will see you back safely.” 

“I can handle myself. Besides, you’re probably going to need him,” Ryuzo said. 

“It’s time that I remembered how to stop relying on others. Thank you again. Please, forgive me.” Sakai bowed deeply, the rain easing around them as he did. Turning, he walked toward the kimon with Jin at his heels. 

Kurobo stared at Ryuzo, his face unreadable behind his mask. “Follow your master,” Ryuzo said, gesturing at the kimon. “I don’t think you want to babysit some yōkai any more than I want a babysitter.” 

“A tenko’s orders cannot be disobeyed,” Kurobo said, his tone neutral. 

Ryuzo exhaled in frustration. Turning on his heel, he stalked off over the grass.

#

Kurobo made himself scarce, but Ryuzo could sense him. Close by or scouting further ahead, never too far. Ryuzo wasn’t sure how Kurobo was staying invisible over the sea of dead grass and didn’t particularly care. His wet clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his sandals squelching underfoot. By the time it got dark and Ryuzo found the remains of their previous campfire near a tree, he was shivering. As he built a fire, something soft landed on his head.

Ryuzo yelped, scrambling to his feet and looking around wildly. “Spare clothes,” Kurobo said from within the tree. He sat balanced on a branch; legs stretched out, tail dangling, mask hung at his hip. 

“Don’t you have to change too?” Ryuzo asked, though Kurobo did look suspiciously dry for someone who’d been caught in the same downpour. 

“Enchanted armour.” Kurobo folded his hands behind his head. 

“You only want to see me naked,” Ryuzo said, though the joke was halfhearted as he tossed his hat aside and started pulling off his armour. On the journey here, it’d been Jin who Ryuzo would sneak off with sometimes during the night. After that one incident in the hut, Kurobo never joined in again, preferring to stay watchfully close to Sakai. 

Kurobo closed his eyes. “If you get sick, I’ll have to waste time nursing you back to health.” 

Ryuzo scowled but changed, hanging up his clothes on low branches to dry. The bundle also included a handful of persimmons. He tossed one at Kurobo, who caught it one-handed without opening his eyes and tossed it back. “You’ve eaten?” Ryuzo asked. 

“I can go a month without eating,” Kurobo said. 

Annoyed, Ryuzo slung the persimmon back at Kurobo’s head, who caught it again. “Eat, or I’m not going to.” Kurobo sniffed and took a bite. “Look,” Ryuzo said as he ate, “you’re very good at staying out of sight, aren’t you?”

“Second nature to one of the yako,” Kurobo said. 

“Why don’t you go look for your brothers? Help them get to Jigoku temple. After that, if you want, you can take up babysitting again, though I’m telling you that I don’t need your help.” 

“A tenko’s orders cannot be—”

“I don’t have a home. I’m a wanderer. Here, or there, it’s all the same to me. You’ve done your duty. Go. Seeing you around is just depressing.” 

“Lord Sakai will not be pleased if you get hurt.” 

Ryuzo frowned at him. “Don’t you have any will of your own? Are you going to bow to your brother’s whims for the rest of your life?”

“Firstly, that assumes that I wouldn’t care about your welfare without being instructed to, which is incorrect,” Kurobo said, taking another bite of the persimmon. “Secondly, should it be my fate to serve my brother for the rest of my life, I would welcome it.” 

“Just because he’s a tenko? You’ve got seven out of nine tails. Isn’t it just a matter of time for you?” 

“I’ll tell you a story about Lord Sakai,” Kurobo said, staring pensively out at the sky. “The yatagarasu and the other divine beasts have been at war with us since we defeated the dragons. Not so long ago, however, they changed tactics. They managed to open a way into the Divine Realm, and through it, they invited several dangerous guests, including powerful yōkai and oni. They dipped their weapons in the blood of the Sakura Dragon, poison to our kind. Shed during his war with the first of the tenko: our mother, Tamamo no Mae.” 

Ryuzo frowned at the persimmon he was eating, losing his appetite quickly. “I didn’t hear about that. Why would any yōkai want that kind of trouble on their heads?”

“The yatagarasu guard draconic secrets and treasures, valuable to anyone. The strategy was simple enough. The yatagarasu would attack Castle Shimura, where the tenko resided. Meanwhile, their allies would steal into Minamoto Palace. They would kill every kitsune, young or old. Drown the palace with enough blood to make Tamamo no Mae regret all that she had done.”

“Someone who once murdered an entire species because they killed her friend?” Ryuzo said with a snort. “That’s going to go well.” 

“They hoped to enrage her enough that she might make a mistake. Which is what she did. As the killing began, she rushed away from Castle Shimura to come to our aid. Together, she and Lord Shimura could have fought back the yatagarasu and their allies, poisoned weapons and all. Alone, she died over the lake, slain in an ambush by the oni and the yatagarasu. When Lord Sakai saw that, he went berserk. He rose again and again after suffering mortal blows. Held an army at bay through sheer resolve until Lord Shimura arrived.” 

“Surely you helped.”

“Me?” Kurobo let out a dry laugh. “I was busy dying. As was Jin, as were most of us. We’d grown complacent. Poisoned weapons aside, the yatagarasu do not use illusions that turn friends into foes, or strike from the shadows, or throw black powder bombs into children’s rooms. You yōkai have no boundaries.” 

The business that Wolf had been on in Castle Shimura. Ryuzo stared at the fire. “Sakai did all that as a child?” 

“No. He was a thousand years old, but still an eight-tailed kitsune. By the time Lord Shimura fought off the yatagarasu forces at his castle and reached us, Lord Sakai was dead. Or so we thought. We put him in the antechamber with the other bodies and went to grieve our mother. Didn’t think to count the number of tails he had. Sometime during the battle, he’d been granted his ninth.” Kurobo finished the persimmon and wiped down his palm. “In the morning, there was a tenko child where his body had been.” 

“Waking up surrounded by the dead?” Ryuzo shivered. 

“Without him, we would all be dead. That’s why it is an honour to serve him.” 

Throwing bombs into the rooms of children. Ryuzo ate another persimmon with slow bites. “You must hate the yōkai and the oni.” 

“I don’t hate anyone. Not even the yatagarasu. Hate is a waste of energy, and besides, I understand why they did what they did. We took their homes from them and destroyed all that they knew. As to the rest, I’m sure they had their reasons too.” 

“What’s with that attitude of yours, then?” Ryuzo said, dropping his voice to Kurobo’s harsh register. “‘A mere yōkai should not remain on his feet while—’”

“That has nothing to do with hate. A tenko is a divine creature. We are not.” 

“So what? That doesn’t make them any better than us.” 

Kurobo huffed, closing his eyes. “Maybe this is why Lord Sakai is so fond of you. Around you, he can pretend to be like the rest of us. Mortal.”

#

As the dense bamboo forest bordering the grasslands grew within sight, Ryuzo said, “Kurobo.” The space beside Ryuzo was empty; then it wasn’t. Kurobo gave him an inquiring glance, black ears twitching forward. “I think there’s another way that I can get you to stop following me.”

“Do tell.” 

“I could fight you off.” 

“You?” Kurobo’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “You could try.” 

“I’m so tired of you kitsune and your—” Ryuzo yelped as Kurobo tackled him into the grass and clamped a hand over his mouth. He glared at Kurobo, but Kurobo wasn’t looking at him, instead staring up at the sky. A crack of light etched between the clouds. Gigantic claws burst through, clenching as they forced the break wider and wider yet, until a bird of gold and mother-of-pearl forced its way through. One, then another, then a third. They landed heavily on the grass, the impact quaking the earth. Their forms blurred, diminishing as they grew smaller. Once they were the size of woodpeckers, they took off from the grass, winging toward the kimon.

“Were those…?” Ryuzo whispered. 

“Yatagarasu.” Kurobo looked grim.

“Didn’t you people defeat them in a war?” 

“We didn’t wipe them out. Tamamo no Mae set down an edict after she killed the last of the dragons and grew to regret it. That never again, no matter the reason, would we wipe out another species.”

Well, that was unfortunate. “Can Jin handle them?”

“Jin? No. He’d be hard-pressed to fight off one, let alone three.”

“Sakai?” Ryuzo asked. Kurobo stayed silent, but the anxious glance he flicked after the yatagarasu was answer enough. “Hai,” Ryuzo said, getting slowly to his feet. “It’d be sakura season by the time I get back. Guess I’ll see that without you lot.” Kurobo didn’t move. “Aren’t you going to go after them?” Ryuzo prompted. 

“A tenko’s—”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Very serious,” Kurobo said, though his hands clenched tightly. 

Ryuzo slapped a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this for a boy who nearly hit me with lightning out of pique.” He turned around, but before he could take a step, Kurobo barred his way. 

“What happened to this not being your fight?” Kurobo asked. 

“It’s not. It’s yours. I just need to move close enough to get you caught up in it. Once you are, I’ll run for the hills.” Ryuzo drew up his lips as he grinned, baring sharp teeth. “That way, I’ll get you off my back.”

Kurobo laughed. “We’ll see.” His form began to blur, stretching and heightening in a way that disoriented the eye. When it was done, a seven-tailed black fox crouched where he was, as large as a horse. “Get on.”

#

Past the kimon, the mountains burned. The smog should’ve been suffocating, but the wind kicked up around Kurobo as he darted from one impossible foothold to another, coring a tunnel through the smoke. Ryuzo kept his head down, trying to breathe shallowly. The bodies of oni, yōkai, and animals alike littered the grass, thickening the air with their burning stench.

“This place is a maze,” Ryuzo said as Kurobo leapt off a ledge that shouldn’t have borne their weight. “How are we going to find them in—”

Lightning split the sky open, forked tongues that earthed themselves wildly beyond the trees to the northeast. Kurobo somehow twisted in mid-air and onto a high branch. Something lunged at them from above with a shriek, but Ryuzo drew and parried its strike, grabbing it and tossing it into space. “What the?” Ryuzo said, astonished. “Was that a monkey with an axe?” 

“So you can use a sword,” Kurobo said, leaping onto a rope bridge and springing for another ledge. 

“Must you people be so insulting all the time?” Ryuzo tried to say, even as lightning and the roar of thunder swallowed half of his words. “Did Sakai do all this? Burn down the mountain?” 

Kurobo didn’t answer. An arrow whistled out of nowhere, slamming into his flank. He yipped, falling awkwardly against a sheer slope and scrabbling against it for purchase. Ryuzo knocked the next arrow out of the air as Kurobo jumped, hissing as he landed against another ledge. Wolf-things with sparks in their fur lunged over from a high ridge, snarling. Kurobo snapped one out of the air and tossed it free, screaming as the others latched on, clawing and biting. Ryuzo stabbed one through the throat, tearing it loose, while Kurobo twisted, crushing the others against the rock. Panting, Kurobo jumped. 

Jigoku Temple lay beyond the maze, seated above a lake, the water boiling into fire and light. Kurobo cursed, skirting the lake in a sprint. Through the burning bamboo to Ryuzo’s right, he could see glimpses of the oni, battling something made of spun gold and shimmering pearl. “I thought they were allies,” Ryuzo said as Kurobo tore past. 

“Unlike the oni, the yatagarasu don’t need the secret of immortality,” Kurobo grit out as he ran. “They’re here for revenge. The oni know that.” 

“Wouldn’t the yatagarasu know this secret too?”

“What is forbidden by the dragons remains forbidden to their servants. I presume the yatagarasu’s allies have now learned that to their dismay,” Kurobo said. With a last burst of speed, he surged through a ring of fire to the lower courtyard of the temple, the old pagodas now great torches that pointed their way up the stairs. Lightning and fire sparked and clashed at the apex, turning the world into a cauldron of harsh light and shadow. 

Kurobo lay down, and Ryuzo got off. The yako’s form blurred, becoming humanoid again, his seven tails shifting as he snapped off the arrow in his flank with a grunt. “Now is a good time to run for the hills,” he told Ryuzo. 

“I see a flaw in my plan, what with everything being on fire.” Ryuzo shifted his grip on his katana.

“Make sure that you survive,” Kurobo said, and broke into a run. Faster than Ryuzo could follow, even with his injuries. 

By the time Ryuzo made it to the top of the stairs, Kurobo was a blur of black fur and steel, snarling as he fought something of bright feathers and claws. Past the burning inner temple building, by a great tree with a shrine embedded into its bark, Sakai had his small hands pressed in the air before a seam of light, strain written into every line of his tiny body. Before him, covered in blood and burns and on a knee, Jin struggled to rise. One of the yatagarasu advanced, a vaguely humanoid-shape with three-toed talons for feet.

Ryuzo threw the kunai up his sleeve at the yatagarasu’s back, praying that the basic steel weapon would be able to hurt a divine creature. It did. The yatagarasu shrieked, turning around. Jin gawked. “ _Ryuzo_? What are you doing here?” 

“Sightseeing,” Ryuzo growled, backing off and beckoning, hoping to draw the yatagarasu away from the kitsune. 

It worked—the bird-thing advanced on him, hissing words in a language Ryuzo couldn’t make out. It lunged at Ryuzo, then squawked as Ryuzo threw a smoke bomb at its feet. As smoke ballooned out around them, Ryuzo darted in, piercing through the yatagarasu’s chest with his katana. The yatagarasu screamed. It staggered back, a clawed hand squeezed tight on the blade, then it began to laugh. It pulled the sword further through its chest, tugging a shocked Ryuzo within range. Clawed fingers closed around Ryuzo’s throat and flung him aside. 

Ryuzo hit the edge of a stone platform with enough force to shatter it, pain lancing up from crushed bone. He spat blood from his bitten tongue as the yatagarasu emerged from the smoke, pulling the katana out and tossing it aside. It turned as Jin charged it with a snarl, batting aside Jin’s defences and grabbing a fistful of Jin’s kimono, hurling him into the burning temple. Chuckling to itself, the yatagarasu advanced on Sakai. It drew a dagger from under its feathers, the blade stained with iridescent fluid. The blood of a divine dragon. 

“Sakai!” Ryuzo yelled. Sakai didn’t respond, absorbed in his work. The seam of light grew wider—too slowly. Ryuzo moaned as he tried to get up, wincing as he fell onto his knees. He tried again, somehow managing a burst of speed as the yatagarasu drove the blade at Sakai’s head. 

The dagger bit into Ryuzo’s back, deeply enough that as he fell into a sprawl, he wrenched the blade out of the yatagarasu’s grip. Far away, he could hear Kurobo gasp. The yatagarasu snarled, reaching for Sakai with a bared claw. 

A blade thrust out from the seam of light, lancing through the yatagarasu’s throat. Someone pushed through—a grave man with golden ears and a tail, dressed in blood-red armour. He pulled his blade free with a grunt even as Sakai fell to his knees with a moan of exhaustion. The new tenko surveyed them both with surprise. 

“What is a bake-danuki doing here?” asked Lord Shimura. 

“Not this again,” Ryuzo said, and passed out.

#

Ryuzo woke up on a soft futon in an elegant room with a view of a crystal lake, the water dotted with pink and white lotus. Disoriented, he sat up, only to hiss as pain shot down over his back from where the dagger had been. Twisting and cursing, Ryuzo was still trying to get a look at his back when Kurobo walked into the room in a black kimono, holding a tray of hot tea that he set down beside Ryuzo.

“It isn’t too bad,” Kurobo said as he poured Ryuzo a cup. “You’ll just have an interesting scar.” 

“Jin? And Sakai?” Ryuzo asked. 

“Fine. Thanks to you.” Kurobo smiled. 

“I wasn’t the one who decided to take on a divine bird head-on in a fair fight.” 

“I saw. Kunai and smoke bombs? That’s a dishonourable way of fighting,” Kurobo said, though there was laughter in his eyes. “Drink. The tea will dampen some of the pain.” 

“Wasn’t Jigoku Temple just meant to be a halfway place?” Ryuzo asked as he drank. “This is the Divine Realm, isn’t it? I thought the way here was closed.” 

“The yatagarasu weakened the divine seal between the realms when they tore their way through. Enough for Lord Sakai and Lord Shimura to create a second breach. It’s exhausted them both, though. They’re recovering.” 

“That doesn’t sound good, what with the number of people out for their heads,” Ryuzo said as Kurobo poured him another cup.

“Our defences are holding.” Kurobo waited for Ryuzo to drink, then took the cup from him and set it aside, climbing onto Ryuzo’s lap. 

Ryuzo laughed as Kurobo pressed him down to the futon. “Is this necessary? We’re no longer in a rush.” 

“Exactly,” Kurobo said, undoing Ryuzo’s obi. “No more having to bide my time while my brother gets all the fun.” 

“You could’ve joined in before,” Ryuzo said, groaning as Kurobo nipped him on the throat. 

“Leaving no one to stand guard?” Kurobo sniffed. He pulled off their clothes with deft fingers, kissing Ryuzo lazily as Ryuzo began to speak. He sucked bright marks down Ryuzo’s chest and belly, to his spreading thighs. Ryuzo swore as Kurobo licked rapidly hardening flesh teasingly, clutching at his shoulders.

“Tease,” Ryuzo grit out at another, slower lap, then groaned and arched as Kurobo magicked up slick over his fingers, pressing two within him. Kurobo laughed. He pressed playful, sucking kisses over Ryuzo’s tightening balls, over the arch of his cock, curling his wicked tongue over the cap. Ryuzo whimpered, his heels digging into the futon, clawing at Kurobo’s back as his fingers angled deeper. “I don’t need that much prep nowadays,” Ryuzo panted. “Just. Inside.” 

Kurobo smiled, baring his teeth. “As you wish.” His tails curled against Ryuzo’s as he pulled a thigh onto his shoulder, feeding his cock into Ryuzo’s willing body with a growl. The sensation felt heightened even against what Ryuzo had been starting to grow used to, crystalline-sharp, drowning him in pleasure as Kurobo pushed in. 

“Better?” Kurobo said, grinning slyly.

“How… how are you doing that?” Ryuzo gasped, already clawing at the futon and squirming. 

“We’re stronger here than we are in the mortal realms,” Kurobo said, nuzzling Ryuzo’s thigh as he began to move, taking Ryuzo in slow, deep thrusts. He didn’t bother to touch Ryuzo’s cock, his eyes fixed on Ryuzo’s quivering body with hungry intensity, as though trying to memorise every detail. 

As Ryuzo shook into his first release with a wail, Jin stepped into the room. “Oya,” Jin said, tails flicking behind him as he chuckled. “I was wondering what was making all that noise.” He settled down beside Ryuzo, bending to kiss his panting mouth as Kurobo sniffed. 

“Nice to see you finally up,” Kurobo said, stroking Ryuzo’s tail and making him quiver. 

“I thought I might come and check on the both of you before Lord Sakai wakes up and declares Ryuzo off-limits,” Jin said, chuckling as Kurobo grumbled something and gently shifted Ryuzo onto his knees. He kissed down the arch of Ryuzo’s back as Jin moved in front, nipping playfully at Ryuzo’s lower lip. 

“Off-limits?” Ryuzo rasped. 

“Told you about him and favourites,” Kurobo said. He rocked his hips forward, making Ryuzo gasp and moan. 

“So we might as well enjoy this while we can,” Jin said, pulling Ryuzo down for another demanding kiss.

#

The stone gate led to an old bridge, the bleached wood cradled on both flanks by ever-blooming sakura trees. Past the bridge, the ground opened into a sea of clouds. Ryuzo sat on top of the stone arch, legs dangling over the open gate, drinking sake.

The space beside him was empty; then it wasn’t. Sakai sat beside him, hands fiddling in his sleeve. “Ryuzo, I…” He trailed off, nibbling at his lower lip. The boy tried a few more attempts before Ryuzo chuckled and hauled him over into a one-armed hug. 

“I heard you the first few times, you little brat,” Ryuzo said, blowing into one golden ear. Sakai yelped, his ears twitching back. “You’re sorry. I know. I came back for you, didn’t I?” 

“You shouldn’t have,” Sakai said, frowning at him. “You nearly died. The only reason you didn’t is because dragonblood isn’t poisonous to you.” 

“So what, I should’ve let that bird thing stab a kid in the back?” 

“You’ve heard my brothers. I’m not exactly a child.” 

“Close enough for me,” Ryuzo said, poking Sakai on the nose. “How’s your uncle?” 

“Still resting. He suffered a grave injury during the last conflict, one that he’s yet to recover from. Forcing his way through to the lesser realm to save us took a lot out of him.” 

“So I’m stuck here, is what you’re trying to say,” Ryuzo said. 

Sakai stiffened against him. “I’m not strong enough yet to open a breach on my own, but once I am, I’ll—”

“Take your time. This place has lots of good sake and fat fish. I wouldn’t mind staying for a while. Though the next kitsune who calls me a ‘mere yōkai’ is getting pushed into the lake.”

Sakai snuggled closer. “I’ll forbid the phrase.” 

“Don’t do that. Spoiled children are annoying enough in general without divine powers. You tenko? I’m surprised this place is still intact.” 

“I told my uncle about what happened. When I lost my temper. He said that when my mother, Tamamo no Mae, was three years into being a tenko, she once caused a minor earthquake because he wouldn’t let her have more than two mochi as a snack.” Sakai chuckled softly. “She was the only tenko at that point, so no one knew what to expect.” 

“Your uncle was probably just as bad when he was reborn.” 

“My mother was grown at that point, so she was able to suppress the worst of it. Or so I’ve been told.” Sakai let out a huge sigh. “I wish I could remember her. That's the one thing I regret. Being reborn on the night of her death.” 

“I’ve been told that if you weren’t reborn, you’d be dead. Sounds worse to me. I’m glad that you’re still here.” Ryuzo patted Sakai on the head. 

Sakai blushed, his tail curling against them. “You didn’t take the reward I offered.”

“I didn’t come all this way for money. There are easier ways to earn money, ways that don’t involve me riding through fire and getting stabbed by divine birds in the back.” 

“I still feel that you deserve something. What do you want? The secret of immortality?” 

“Haah? When did I ever say that I was interested in that?” Ryuzo poked Sakai in the cheek. “Don’t go around offering that to everyone. From what I’ve already seen, it’s far more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Then?”

“Well,” Ryuzo said, lying back against the warm stone and folding his arms behind his head, “as a start, some otoro would be nice, but not—” A huge tuna twice as long as Ryuzo was tall fell from the sky, caving through the centre of the bridge. “—right now.” Ryuzo slapped a palm over his face. 

“I didn’t consciously do that,” Sakai said, just as shocked. 

“Never mind. I’ll just… make us some lunch.”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> my prompt policy, process, original work: manicintent.carrd.co  
> —  
> The armed monkeys are some of the weirdest foes in Sekiro, lol. So random. Also, tuna can get to 4.6m in length and weigh in at like 680+kgs.


End file.
